Stripped: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Brook Wilder

  Della crouched down even more. There was no space for her, but she tried her best to fit into the space between the backseat and the driver’s seat. She thought that if she hid all the way back, it would be harder for Simon to reach her. But he jerked up in his seat, reaching his gun as far behind him as possible, and he kept his finger to the trigger, threatening to pull it at any second.

  “You know, Della, I’ve always hated myself,” he said, swinging the gun loosely in his hand. “Do you ever feel that way? Like you hate yourself?”

  There was a pause. Della didn’t know what to say without messing up, without provoking him. “Of course,” she breathed. “All the time.”

  “You’re a liar!” Simon said, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “You don’t know me, you know nothing! Nothing!”

  Della peered around her again. The cops were getting close. But Simon was distracted now; he was lost in his own thoughts.

  “I may not know exactly how you feel, but I can understand,” Della sighed. “You feel alone all the time, like you’ve got no one,” she said, reaching out and putting a hand over his shoulder. Simon didn’t flinch. She knew she was taking a chance by tearing down this wall, this tension between them, but a part of her felt like she was calming him down rather than pissing him off. “It’s going to be okay,” she muttered, squeezing at his arm.

  Simon started sobbing again. He was racing down the highway, his gun still pointed at Della. But she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. She knew he was vulnerable, that he was going to give up at some point. She just hoped the cops were fast enough. Suddenly, Simon’s grip on the gun loosened, but he grabbed it again, and this time, he pointed it to his own head.

  “Wait, what are you doing?!” Della asked.

  “I’m putting an end to this,” Simon said, the gun shaking in his hand. Della jumped up in horror. If Simon pulls that trigger, they’d both be dead.

  “Wait, wait,” she said, rather gently. “Just hear me out.”

  “Hear you out?!” Simon asked, his pointer finger dancing around the trigger. “You’ve pushed me away so many times, Della, what else do you have to say to me?” he asked, his voice trailing off. “I did all of this for you, for you.”

  Della looked at Simon in the rear view mirror and she could see him clenching his eyes and muttering things to himself. “No!” she said, turning to look behind her. “Help, help!” she squealed. At that point, the cop cars were catching up with them.

  “Fuck!” Simon said, dropping the gun and stepping on the gas pedal. His eyes were fixated on the cars behind them, and he weaved in and out of the empty lanes like a maniac. The cops were nipping at his heels, and he could feel the roadside meld into blurs as he jetted past. He whizzed by an SUV, barely avoiding clipping its side view mirror as he pivoted and turned blindly onto a side street. But the flashing red and blue lights were still hot on his tail. “Shit, shit,” Simon said as he tried to shake the police off. But they were close, so close that Simon was on the verge of losing his mind. His brain was on overdrive, causing his driving to be more erratic than ever.

  “Simon, Simon please! Just slow down!” Della yelled, her eyes darting from the flashing lights of the police cars, to the back of Simon’s head, and then to the cars again. She feared for her baby’s life. Simon was going at an unbelievable speed, and all Della could think of was the possibility of them getting into a crash.

  What about the baby? She couldn’t think of anything else but that. She didn’t even care for her own life anymore. She wrapped her arms around her belly and looked on, Simon turning onto the main road again. The cops were still on their tail.

  “I’m not slowing down, I’m not slowing down,” Simon said, turning to look behind him.

  “Careful!” Della said, motioning for him to turn back around. Simon wandered a little, and Della held on as one of the cop cars started ramming his car from behind.

  Simon let out a groan, rocking in his seat and slamming his hands against the steering wheel repeatedly. He kept honking, spitting profanities and muttering things that even Della didn’t understand. She just hoped he would give up and stop the car already. A siren sounded behind them, and one of the cops was talking into a megaphone, his voice firm.

  “Pull over, I repeat, pull over.”

  But Simon kept going. At that point he was in denial that his car was being rammed from behind. He kept going and then braking, going and then braking until he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He kept cursing under his breath, throwing his head back and crying loudly. Della was certain he would come to a stop at any time now. He really didn’t have any other choice. The police were basically on his tail, and not only that, but he was running out of gas. Della peered over his shoulder and she could see the gas meter approaching empty. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  This will all be over soon, she thought to herself, turning to look at the police cars every now and then to make sure they were still keeping tabs on them.

  “Fuck them, fuck you!” Simon yelled, looking at the cops in his wing mirror. “All of you! You think you can catch me?” he asked, mouthing the words to them.

  “Pull over,” the voice ordered. One of the cop cars caught up to Simon and was now driving parallel to his car, and he found himself surrounded. The rest were ramming him from behind still, almost knocking his bumper off. Simon was giving up. He stepped on the brakes, probably harder than he should have, and the car came to a sudden stop. Simon started hyperventilating, looking around him as the cops got out of their cars and charged towards him. One of them spoke into the police radio, the rest of them swarming around the car like bees. But Simon didn’t get out of the car. He picked the gun off the floor, turning around suddenly and pointing it at Della.

  “Stay away or I’ll shoot her!” he yelled, wrapping an arm around Della’s neck and pointing the gun to her head.

  Della screamed. She couldn’t believe this was happening all over again. She watched in horror as the policemen exchanged looks, trying to figure out the best way to tackle Simon. One wrong move, and she was dead.

  “I’m telling you again, drop the gun!” one of them said, stepping closer to him.

  “Are you sure you wanna do that?” Simon barked, his eyes darting from one police officer to the other. He was panting like a dog, and he just stared back at them, his nostrils flared and his lips slightly parted. Della was gasping for air. She rubbed a hand over her belly, trying to ease the pain that she was feeling, and she gazed at the police officers, searching their faces for a reaction. But they were stone-faced, and for a second it felt like time had froze, with every single person in that place trying to decide what the next move should be .

  “Simon,” another voice said. “I’m going to ask you one more time to drop your weapon.” They closed in on Simon with their guns. He knew there was no escaping this.

  “This isn’t how I imagined this!” he snapped, tears gathering in his eyes. “I thought you loved me, Della. I thought you would run away with me, I thought you would come to your senses!” he said, his voice boiling down to a squeal. “Why haven’t you come to your senses yet? Why did you let them get in the way of us?”

  Della didn’t say anything. She just stared at the officers, her eyes growing wide in fear.

  “Please help me,” she mouthed to one of them, and when his eyes went to her, Simon’s grip around her neck tightened, and he let out a growl.

  “Don’t you talk to them!” he said, his eyes darting from the cops, to Della, and then to the cops again. “All I wanted was for you to be on the same page with me so we could run away together, run away from all of this!”

  “Simon,” an officer said, closing in on him with his gun. “You’re under arrest. If you don’t drop your weapon right now, there’ll be bigger consequences.” They were getting closer and closer, trying not to startle Simon. He was like an animal: unpredictable and dangerous.

  “You’re not taking Della away from me!” Simon yelled, strug
gling in his place. There was a pause. “I’m sorry, Della, you just never gave me a chance,” he said, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “No!” Della shrieked, going for the gun and grabbing it.

  A loud bang echoed into the emptiness of the highway.

  “Della! Della!”

  She could hear voices around her, they were calling her. But they sounded so distant, like they were lifetimes away from her. Della felt herself float up in the air, the sound of people buzzing around her. She felt herself being carried off the ground, away from Simon. Suddenly she felt a stabbing pain that shot up her belly, and she clenched at it, unable to locate the source of the pain. She felt herself squeal in pain, but then she couldn’t move, and she could hear the noise of feet scurrying around her. She opened her eyes again, watching as the faces of police officers swan in and out of focus. They were mouthing things to each other, one of them talking into his phone, and the rest were with Simon. They were cuffing him.

  Della squeezed her eyes shut when she felt that pain shoot up in her belly again.

  “My stomach,” she whispered, feeling around for the source of the pain. For a second she thought Prescott was there, but then she shook her head in denial. “No, it can’t be,” she muttered, feeling herself being moved from one place to the other. A wave of relief washed over her, and she wasn’t worried anymore. She wasn’t feeling well, but at least she wasn’t held by Simon anymore. She could see white flashes of light move and twinkle in front of her eyes, and she yelled out, hoping Prescott would hear her, wherever he was.

  “Prescott, Prescott,” she whispered. She felt like she could just reach out and touch him, but when she tried to, her fingers would only grab at the air. Everything around her felt like an illusion, lights that were fading in and out. She didn’t know whether she was dead or alive, but she sure hoped she was alive. She wanted to live for Prescott, she wanted to live for their child. And what about their child? Was it the reason why her belly hurt so much? Did Simon shoot her in the stomach? Her brain was buzzing with questions and yet she could not move. She just felt the space around her being occupied by dozens of people. They were swarming around her, touching her, examining her. But it didn’t make her uncomfortable, she felt like she was being cared for, and deep down, she knew Prescott was coming for her. She had missed him so much, and all she wanted right now was for him to rush over and take her in his arms. She wanted to feel his warm embrace again, and then everything would go back to the way it was. And she wanted to see Kate, her lifetime best friend, and she wanted to see her family and everyone she’s ever cared about. The truth was, Della didn’t know if she was going to live, she didn’t know anything. But a part of her knew that everything was going to be okay, now that Simon was in custody of the police now. In the very back of her mind Della heard the sounds of doors close behind her, and then everything faded to black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  “Della, Della?” Prescott yelled as he rushed in through the entrance. His eyes were darting from one stretcher to the other, trying to spot Della amidst a sea of people and bodies being wheeled in and out of the ER.

  Looks like a busy night, he thought to himself as he made his way to the front desk.

  “Della. Have you checked in a woman with the name Della?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

  The lady sitting at the front desk blinked at him through her thick glasses. “Last name, sir?”

  “Hicks, Della Hicks,” Prescott gathered, his arms clasped behind his head. He couldn’t believe this was happening. They took Della away from him again. He eyed the woman as she flipped through their records and clicked away at the computer mouse.

  “We don’t have anyone by that name,” she said, staring back at him. Prescott could feel a fire boil up inside him. A part of him thought he would throw a punch at the woman right then and there. But he had to contain himself. He didn’t come all this way to fuck up now.

  “Are you sure?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yes, sir, I’m sure.”

  “Pregnant woman in her twenties, took a bullet to the abdomen,” a voice echoed all over the ER. Prescott turned around suddenly, scanning the room with his eyes until they landed on a bump that way Della’s belly.

  “Della, Della!” he said, charging towards the stretcher. Paramedics were swarming around Della like bees, and she was unconscious. One of them motioned for Prescott to stay away. “Della!” he screamed again.

  “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stay away,” one of the nurses said, her eyes fixated on Prescott’s. He bounced back, watching as all those paramedics gathered around Della.

  “BP’s eighty-five over fifty-five,” one paramedic said.

  “Shallow breathing.”

  “Breathing tubes,” a voice sounded from the crowd. Prescott walked away, staring behind him as he did his best to maintain a distance. One of the nurses was sliding a breathing tube down Della’s throat, and he sighed in despair as he watched the scene of them trying to save her unfold.

  “Alright, breathing’s more stable,” that same voice said. Prescott sighed again, relieved this time. But it was far from over. He couldn’t help himself. He just wanted to rush to Della and hold her hand, tell her everything was going to be okay. He could feel the tears gather in his eyes, and when he caught a glimpse of something red, like blood, seeping over the stretcher Della was being wheeled away on, something went off in his brain like a switch.

  “Della! No!” Prescott snapped, rushing to her as the paramedics wheeled her away.

  “Sir, we’re going to do the best that we possibly can, I strongly suggest that you calm down,” a red haired nurse said, her voice firm.

  Prescott nodded. He watched as Della disappeared into the hallway, her feet sticking out the end of the stretcher and her head tilted to the side. He felt his heart sink. Will he ever get the chance to talk to her again? And what about their baby?

  Who am I kidding? Prescott thought to himself. There’s no way the both of them will make it out of this alive.

  Prescott felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned around, and it was Kate. She was staring at him, her head cocked to the side. Instantly, Prescott felt his heart sink to his knees. He was this close to breaking down, and he knew Kate was, too. But she looked calm, calmer than him, and she motioned for him to step out with her.

  “I don’t want to move from here,” Prescott said, folding both arms across his chest.

  “Prescott,” Kate said, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. “You can’t drive yourself crazy like that. We’re both here for Della, and as soon as the doctors have news for us, they’ll come out and let us know,” she continued. Deep down, Kate was going crazy herself. But she knew one of them had to keep it together. She felt horrible for Prescott, because at the end of the day, he had everything to lose. She knew he felt guilty, Kate contributing to that guilt, but right now wasn’t the time to argue, it wasn’t the time to panic. They had to stick together, for Della.

  Prescott nodded, the two of them making their way for the exit. Kate stepped out into the cold, turning to look at Prescott, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the inside of the emergency room.

  “Prescott,” Kate whispered, taking him by the hand. “Come on, let’s stand out here,” she continued.

  The two of them went down the stairs together, Kate taking out her pack of cigarettes and lighting one. She passed one to Prescott, who flashed her a weak smile, and the two of them just stood there, looking out at the horizon.

  “I’m so scared,” Prescott said, taking a drag of his cigarette.

  “I know you are,” Kate whispered. “It’s not easy for you, it’s not easy for the both of us,” she said, turning to look at him.

  There was silence. Prescott was stone faced, and Kate eyed him as he blew out smoke and stared out into nothingness.

  “This is all my fault,” he said suddenly, his voice trailing off.

  Kate placed a hand over his shoulder, and, soon en
ough, Prescott started sobbing.

  “This isn’t your fault, you had no idea it would go this far,” she said.

  “But it is, though!” Prescott snapped. “You were right, I did drag Della down with me!” he said, his eyes locked on Kate’s. “If something happens to Della, something bad, I’m never going to forgive myself...I’d rather just go with her,” he continued, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He flicked his cigarette and stomped on it, sighing loudly as the tears streamed down his face.

  “Prescott, hey, don’t do this to yourself,” Kate said, wrapping her arms around him. “Let’s stick together, we have to stay strong for her, and for your baby.”